this one was particularly delicious to write. :D
The Ministry of Magic was dark, the Atrium unlit save for the hundred tiny lights behind a large banner bearing the face of a man everyone knew and feared, and a slogan everyone repeated before breakfast. Magic is Might. This man was more a face than a man, in actuality. The Dark Lord, Voldemort. But the Dark Lord could not be bothered with running every aspect of the government, choosing to take part only in the activities that pleased him most. For the minor things, he had an aide, and this aide was the Minister of Magic.
“Sir,” a rat-faced woman called, camera clutched in her hands and she pursued the Aide. “A comment, sir, on the new Muggle-hunting laws, will you?”
The aide turned his pace face to her for a moment, and then looked away. “No comment,” he replied.
“Minister,” another journalist called, this one a man with a wiry beard. “How did you get to be in the position you are today? How did you become Aide to the Dark Lord? Was it your father? Was it your father’s position among the Death Eaters?”
“Hardly,” the Minister replied, adjusting the sleeves of his long black cloak as he summoned a lift at the far end of the Atrium.
“Extortion, manipulation?” the rat-woman called again. “Don’t pretend you haven’t used every mean available to you?”
“I have,” the man admitted, polished shoe tapping as he waited for the lift. “A combination of ambition and hard work has brought me here. I remained true and loyal to the Dark Lord, and I worked hard to be where I am, miss.”
The woman seemed somewhat put out, hoping for some juicy admission for her tabloids. Nothing negative, of course. The Dark Lord controlled the media.
Sensing an audience, the Minister stretched himself to his full height, which was modest, to say in the least. “Members of the press,” he began. “I have reached this point in my career through hard work and a desire for justice. I longed for wizard kind to finally receive the acknowledgement of their superiority over the Muggle filth in our society. I believe in this cause, and I believe in our Lord, Voldemort. I have taken no shortcuts in my life, and that is why I am here. I was a Hufflepuff, remember? I understand well the concept of hard work.”
The lift doors parted, and the Minister stepped in, escaping the reporters even as they cried, “Minister! Mr. Malfoy! Sir!” A few cameras flashed, catching an image of the proud looking man in the lift, and then there was no more. The journalists dispersed, all setting off to their desk to write about how Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic under Lord Voldemort, victor over Harry Potter, the Boy Who Died, learned the value of hard work from his house at Hogwarts; Hufflepuff.